


One and the Same

by Im_The_Doctor (Bofur1)



Category: Transformers: Prime
Genre: Acceptance, Anxiety, Arguing, Best Friends, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, False Accusations, One Shot, Pre-Earth Transformers, Pre-Series, Preparation, Self-Discovery, Self-Doubt, Surprises, Trust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-18
Updated: 2016-04-18
Packaged: 2018-06-03 02:47:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6593641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bofur1/pseuds/Im_The_Doctor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Optimus sends something to Ratchet that he never would have wanted. It requires an explanation and by the Allspark, it had better be a good one!</p>
            </blockquote>





	One and the Same

“Orion!”

Sharp footsteps and a sharper outburst preceded a medical override on the office door. Orion… _Optimus_ counted seven kliks before he looked up and found Ratchet steaming in front of his desk. Straightening his posture and setting aside his data pad, the new Prime greeted his friend.

“What can I do for you, Ratchet?” If he _was_ Orion, as Ratchet still called him, his vocals might have trembled slightly, revealing the way his spark was twisting itself in its chamber. He swallowed silently, tamping down his surprised anxiety at the anger on Ratchet’s face. The Matrix accepted his anxiety easily. It was an odd sensation, the emotion being drawn in and wrapped in wisdom and peace that wasn’t his.

“What can you do for me? You can explain this,” Ratchet hissed, tossing another data pad on top of the one the Prime had been reading for the last breem. “By the Allspark, I can’t believe you’ve gone this far.”

Ori—Optimus couldn’t quite believe it either. He blinked down at the data pad, straightening it with care. He was stalling as best he could, but the glare Ratchet had fixed on him was oppressive and his EM field filled the entire office with his indignation.

“I…want to be prepared,” Optimus admitted at length, while Orion kept his optics down. It was like they were two separate entities in the same form, but both shared one feeling: they were afraid. He had known that since the Matrix first integrated into his systems. It was still doing its best to soothe the emotion, but perhaps the data pad had stemmed out of it anyway.

“What makes you think I’m not prepared?” Ratchet demanded, planting his hands on his hips and shifting testily. He had risen through the ranks almost as abruptly as Orion had, though not by choice.

Optimus was glad he had made the decision not to tell Ratchet he had requested he be promoted as swiftly and cleanly as possible. Ratchet wouldn’t have appreciated it; he preferred earning his rank under his own power. Orion felt a bit guilty for taking that opportunity from him, for thrusting him into a higher standing by force, but the truth was that he _and_ Optimus Prime needed his old friend close. This data pad was one of the reasons why.

“I-I know you’re prepared,” Orion assured him, stammering a little and retreating so the Prime in him could take charge and finish more smoothly, “You’re prepared to salvage me. But you must be just as prepared to _lose_ me.”

Ratchet stared at him, seeming to notice the swap between Orion and Optimus. Somehow it didn’t faze him from the subject, as he simply darkened further and shot back severely, “Are you prepared for that, _Optimus_? What exactly are you planning?”

Optimus stared at him blankly. “I don’t understand.”

Moving closer to the desk, Ratchet pressed a finger onto the pad screen. “This,” he began venomously, “is your _last will and testament_ , Orion. You should know you write those when you think your time’s coming! And of all mechs, you send it to _me_ , a close friend. It’s—” He stepped back, barking an incredulous laugh. “It’s practically a suicide note!”

“Ratchet, that’s not what this is!” Orion gasped, aghast at the suggestion. Leaning across the desk, he continued earnestly, “Do you truly believe I would send you my last will and testament? I couldn’t trust you with that!” At the flicker of disbelief and hurt across Ratchet’s face, Optimus lifted a placating hand and hurried to explain. “That was poorly phrased. Because of your profession, if I were to…attempt anything, you would be duty-bound as a medic to stop me, to save me.”

“I’d be duty-bound if I were in _any_ profession!” Ratchet snarled, his EM field billowing in murky, pained colors. “Because you’re my best friend. And now…Now you’re my Prime.” He blinked, seeming to recall that for the first time since he’d entered. When he spoke again, his voice was weary and ever so slightly daunted. “Optimus Prime, _you_ are my best friend and I can’t accept this.”

Smiling ruefully, Optimus countered as kindly as he could, “You’re my best friend too, Ratchet, and you’re my medic. You’re duty-bound to accept.”

Ratchet seemed to consider being angry that he was using that against him, but after a klik or two his features stilled into resignation. “Is this will and testament your way of telling me you don’t trust me to keep you alive?” he asked bluntly.

Optimus found any answer he might have given stuck in his throat. He blinked several times, trying to process the question and the sad accusation he heard behind it.

 _He believes I don’t trust him as much as Orion did_.

Inside, Orion made a panicked scramble at the realization: _That’s not true! I trust him more than ever; I have no one else from my old life to trust but him. How can he think that of me? D-Does he think I’ve changed so much that I trust him so little?_

Optimus stifled the dread of his young spark and rose, keeping his frame stiff as he walked, his steps plodding heavily in the expectant silence. He hated the trepidation in Ratchet’s optics at the approach of his large, large frame, which he tried to hide by ducking his helm. Looming over him, Optimus lay a hand on his shoulder and prayed wordlessly, unsure of what he was asking, but Primus gave it to him anyway. He could feel both Optimus and Orion channeling in his voice. They were one and the same, both filled with the same smooth kindness.

“Ratchet,” he addressed him gently, “there is no one I would trust more to fulfill my last wishes.”

The medic didn’t meet his gaze for a solid minute, but when he did, he replied with a mildly chiding note to his vocals. “Well…I hope you won’t be considering passing on any—” Ratchet lifted a hand to rap lightly against Optimus’ chest. “— _heirlooms_ to me.”

It was Ratchet’s way of accepting what he had said, Optimus decided, the Matrix fluttering slightly in amusement and relief. He smiled, squeezing Ratchet’s shoulder. “I can assure you, that’s not included in the will.”

Jerking a nod, Ratchet huffed. “Good, because no matter what you say to convince me, Optimus, I am _not_ duty-bound to accept _that_.”

“I would never expect you to.” Sensing that the vulnerable time had passed, he shifted his frame slightly toward the desk. “Would it comfort you to go through the will and discuss its contents?”

“I need that,” Ratchet admitted, moving to perch on the desk while Optimus sat behind it. “Um…thank you, Optimus.”

“You’re very welcome, Ratchet,” the Prime replied, taking note but not mentioning the fact that Ratchet hadn’t called him Orion again.


End file.
